A Haircut, and a Threat
by chocolatemoose713
Summary: Ever wonder how Elle got Peter to agree to a haircut?


Elle was starting to get really annoying. Actually, Peter had always found her irritating, but in only the one day that he had known her, she had managed to get under his skin and drive him up the wall at the same time. The worst thing she had done, which was probably the worst thing anyone could do, was suggest that she give him a haircut.

A little while ago, Elle had come into his room and sat down on the bed next to him. Peter had tried to ignore her.

"How are ya," Peter?" she asked.

"Fine," Peter had said. Elle seemed disappointed with this response. She pouted silently for a few moments and then began playing with Peter's hair. Peter wacked her hand away.

'What're you doing?" he said. Elle did not answer him, but instead said,

"Peter, I'm going to give you a haircut." Peter jumped up.

"No!" he said, looking at Elle in disgust. She made a sad pouty face.

"Please, Peter?" she said. But Peter was not swayed.

"No, not happening."

"I'll take that as a maybe," Elle said, standing up and walking towards the door, "I'll see you later, Peter."

So Peter had spent the last couple of hours thinking about how he had to get out. He couldn't let Elle cut his hair, but he was afraid that by reacting so defensively, he had made her even more determined to do the dark deed. He patted his hair a little and whispered to it,

"Don't worry. I won't let her touch you." That made Peter feel a little bit better and he was almost on the verge of thinking that maybe, just maybe, Elle would just forget about the whole thing when she walked back through his room, which was beginning to feel more and more like a cage.

"Hi, Peter," Elle said. Peter did not say a word. "Change your mind about that haircut yet?" she asked. Again, Peter chose silence over shouting, "NO!" at the top of his lungs. "Well," said Elle, "You might want to consider it. Or I'm gonna tell Daddy about how you're not cooperating, and I don't know if he'll still want to keep your brother, Nathan, alive after that." Peter stared at her in shock but still said nothing. Elle went on. "And his daughter, Claire," she said, "We've been keeping away from her and her family, but I don't know if we'll still going to be able to do that if, well, you know. And our company's been working on a solution to global warming, but-"

"Stop!" Peter said, 'I get it."

"It won't be a big deal, Peter," Elle said, "Just a trim, a little snip-snip." There was a long pause. Peter couldn't believe what he was about to say.

"Fine," he said, "alright, you win." Elle smiled an evil smile.

"Yay!" she said, clapping her hands together and skipping out of the room.

Peter didn't get an ounce of sleep that night. He tossed and turned and regretted his decision, and tried to think of plan so that he could save Nathan, Claire, the world, AND his hair. But Peter had never been a man for plans, but more of a man for poorly thought out actions and sacrifice. And he had already done the first part, so all he had to do now, was await his fate.

He didn't have to wait very long. Elle came in bright and early the next morning, carrying an armful of hair-cutting supplies. She put it down on the bed. She looked around the room, then went out into the hallway and got a chair. She set it down in the center of the room and looked expectantly at Peter who grudgingly walked over and sat in the Chair of Doom. It was when she threw a white towel over him that Peter finally found his voice to speak up.

"Are you sure this is really necessary?" he asked.

"Oh it's definitely necessary," Elle assured him. Peter gulped nervously. Elle picked up a pair of shiny silver scissors. Peter eyed them with distaste. She picked up a large lock of his hair and held it between the blades of the scissors.

"Stop!" Peter accidentally yelled before he could stop himself. Elle gave him a confused look. "I mean...I thought you said it was just going to be a trim."

"Peter, trust me, I know what I'm doing."

"You do?"

"Well..." Elle said, "Sort of." She held up her scissors again and prepared to cut a large piece of hair near the front of his face. Peter braced himself. Elle snipped the piece and it fell on the floor. Peter stared at it for a moment, but Elle was already moving on to her next piece. Peter did not have time to prepare himself this time. Elle grabbed a big chunk of his hair and cut the whole thing off. And she kept going, cutting off all the hair that she could lay her hands on. She was a complete animal! Hacking away at his hair like nobody's business!

Peter tried to keep as still as possible, for fear that it would mess her up or she would make a mistake. He kept hoping that she would be done soon, because his hair was getting shorter and shorter by the minute. It came as a great relief to Peter when at last she was done. She took her scissors, her comb, and her towel and left, leaving Peter alone in the Chair of Doom.

He got up and looked at his reflection in the window. It was very painful to look at. Elle had lied about it being a trim. This was a full on haircut, the very thing that Peter despised more than anything else. Just then, Elle's father, Bob, walked through the door.

"You let Elle cut your hair, eh?" he said, "Why'd you do that?" Peter looked at him incredulously.

"She said...I had to or you were gonna hurt Nathan, and Claire, and-"

"And you believed her?" Bob said. Peter found his rage was impairing his ability to speak. Bob just shook his head and left.


End file.
